You May Pray to God
by Lif61
Summary: Dean goes out for a drink, leaving Sam all alone. Feeling that he may need help dealing with his hallucinations of the Devil, he attempts to pray to God. Hurt/Comfort without the comfort.


**A/N: Oops... my hand slipped. But seriously, I'm guessing by now you all know I have a Samifer obsession. They're my Sin OTP (sin because it's non-con). In all honesty, I couldn't sleep, so this evil happened. And my usual disclaimer: I don't condone any of Lucifer's actions. The dude's a creep.**

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It'd been a while since Sam had prayed; nearly two years, in fact, during the apocalypse. He remembered only having done it once that year, not really feeling hopeful that God would answer. In the Cage, the thought of asking God for help hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would God help him? He was in Hell, and in a way, he had deserved it. That's what he told himself, at least. But no one really deserved what he'd been through. That didn't mean that he didn't have hallucinations to put up with. They were getting too difficult to deal with, and now, Sam wasn't sure what else he could do. So he thought of praying.

Dean had gone out for a drink. He'd asked Sam if he wanted to come along, but Sam had told him he was too tired. His brother had just shrugged and then left. Now, he was all alone. He actually felt awkward because it'd been so long since he'd prayed. He got down on his knees by his bed, lowered his head, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together.

He heaved a sigh, and then began, "God, I'm sorry to bother you, I know you must be really busy…"

Shit, he sounded ridiculous.

He cleared his throat and then tried again. "I know I haven't asked for your help in a while, but I really need it now. It's… It's Lucifer. Well, not really him, but… he uh, he hurt me… in the Cage, and now my soul is damaged because of it. It's-"

All of a sudden, his words were cut off, and a rush of fear and adrenaline instantly spread through his veins, making it hard to breathe. "What's the phrase again? Speak of the Devil and he shall appear?"

All Sam could do was look up at Lucifer who stood across the bed, peering down at him with a twisted, amused smile.

Sam swallowed roughly.

 _He's not real, he's not real, he's not real, he's not real._

"And I bet you're telling yourself right now that I'm not real." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The damage is very real. I messed you up something awful, didn't I?"

Sam looked away. "Leave me alone. I'm-"

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to pray. Think that my ol' Dad's gonna help you."

"Lucifer, just leave me alone."

"Leave you alone? Why on earth would I ever do that?"

He walked around to Sam's side of the bed, getting much too close to him. Sam wished that he could move, but fear had frozen him. There was nothing he could do as Lucifer put a hand under his chin and tilted his head upwards to look at him.

"I can never leave you alone. Not while your scarred soul resides in your body." He knelt down, getting on Sam's level, and he moved closer. They were almost touching. "Maybe I can have it back, you know, so we can have some more fun in the Cage."

Sweat trickled down Sam's temple, and he clenched his jaw.

"You _would_ find all that fun," Sam told him before turning away.

He had to stop talking to the hallucination. He wasn't real. He wasn't real. He wasn't real…

The feeling of Lucifer brushing some of his hair behind his ear negated that, and Sam inhaled deeply, trying to control the new wave of fear his touch sent through him.

"God," he managed to get out, "since I got out of the Cage I've been-"

"Having a grand old time with me, huh, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, his voice low and quiet. He had gotten closer to him and was now brushing his nose against the side of his neck.

"Shut up," he told him quietly.

"Ooh, getting bold there, partner."

Another deep breath, his lip trembling. Sam attempted to continue, "I've been hallucinating, and I'm not sure I can take it much longer." After a pause in which Lucifer was surprisingly silent (though he was now running his hands up Sam's torso beneath his shirt, the cold biting his skin), Sam went on, "I just want it to end."

"Oh, poor wittle Sammy," Lucifer breathed. "You know, he's not listening."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and felt a sob building up in his throat, because Lucifer had just spoken the truth he hadn't wanted to tell himself. God wasn't listening. There was no way he could possibly be listening. If he were listening then surely he wouldn't be letting this happen. If he cared he wouldn't have left him to be tortured and violated in the Cage.

A tear streaked down his cheek. "He has to be," he whispered.

"Oh, he has to be listening? Why is that? Is it because this is all too horrible for you? Because every time I touch you it makes you want to die?" A shudder ran through Sam as Lucifer's forked tongue flicked the tip of his ear, and that was soon followed by his teeth as he bit down.

"Don't touch me."

The Devil ignored him, a groan of desire leaving him as he leaned into Sam. His hands started traveling lower, and somehow, Sam found it in him to tear away from his grasp. He did so much too quickly and ended up turning around and banging into the bedside table, nearly knocking the lamp over.

Lucifer chuckled, and started coming towards him on his hands and knees, his eyes like those of a predator focused on the kill. Sam's chest heaved, terror making his heart pump far too quickly. He tried backing away, but there was nowhere to go.

"No," he got out. "No, no…"

Oh god, it was going to happen again. Lucifer was going to rape him again. The hallucination of him hadn't done so yet despite all the comments and jokes, but now, he looked very keen on violating him.

Sam closed his eyes, and grabbed the palm of his left hand, pressing his thumb into it till it hurt.

"You're not real, you're not real, you're not real, you're not real."

Satan's hand was making its way up his leg.

"Sam, I hate to tell ya, but that's not gonna change a thing. You're stuck with me."

A whimper escaped Sam from trying to hold back a sob. His cheeks burned red with shame.

"God, please help me. Please, just please help me."

Now both hands were on him, running up his thighs. A terrible, little wave of heat ran through him from that, a tingle of pleasure. Another whimper nearly left him.

Lucifer spoke, his voice copying the almost monotonous tone of an automated voice message, "Sorry, God can't answer the phone right now. Leave your message after the tone and he'll get back to you… never."

And then Lucifer was straddling him, one hand pulling at his hair, and the other caressing his cheek. Sam didn't dare open his eyes, didn't want to see the dark, hungry gaze of the dark angel now on top of him. His upper lip trembled, and his throat ached as Lucifer's breath wafted over him.

He pressed their noses together, and then Sam jumped because the Devil shouted very loudly, "Beep!"

After, all that could be heard was Sam's heavy breathing.

"Come on, Sam," Satan urged. "You have to record a message."

"What's the point?" Sam spat at him, finally daring to open his eyes. The cold, blue gaze that met him was nearly enough to make him flinch, but he tensed his muscles instead. "God clearly doesn't give a crap."

"Pray to him," Lucifer ordered, his tone saying that any disobedience would be met with punishment.

Sam tried to stare him down, hoping that maybe he'd given in. After 180 years in the Cage he wasn't even sure where that hope came from; trying to go against anything Lucifer wanted was futile. He'd learned that the hard way.

Lucifer commanded once more, "Pray to him, Sammy."

Sam took in a breath as if he was about to, but then a sob escaped. He couldn't. He just couldn't do it. It was humiliating.

Lucifer pulled back from him, but Sam didn't have time to be grateful because he said, "Guess I'll have to give you some incentive."

Before Sam could make any move to escape what he knew was surely coming, Lucifer forcefully pressed their lips together. Without meaning to, his mouth opened as he began to cry. Lucifer eagerly stuck his horrid forked tongue in, pressing his hips down against Sam, letting him feel the evidence of his arousal. His stomach twisted at that, and his tears fell.

Sam tried to pull away, but the hold Lucifer had on his head was unyielding. He finally did, and Sam gasped in shuddering breaths while the dark angel watched, looking very pleased with himself.

"Feel like praying now?"

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his lips, horror turning his insides cold.

The idea to give in did strike him, but the humiliation would be unbearable. But would it be worse than what Lucifer had planned?

"No?" he prodded, trying to get an answer out of him.

Sam turned away and clenched his jaw, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

The Devil let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, then. This is your fault."

The heat of shame instantly colored his cheeks red as Lucifer's hands went to the belt on his jeans, because surely it was his fault. He wasn't playing by the rules. Did that mean that he wanted this? After a couple of seconds of Sam sitting there completely limp, and Lucifer swearing about buttons and zippers, he'd freed him from his pants. Another tear fell when he felt Lucifer's cold hand touching his length.

He began to squeeze, and pull, and Sam's body enjoyed it.

"Ooh, Sam," Lucifer began, his voice low, "you hardened rather quickly." He leaned into him, his lips brushing against his ear as he spoke, "Do you want me?"

"You know that I don't," he got out quickly, not trusting himself to not start screaming.

A playful growl left the Devil, and he nipped at his ear. Sam winced, hating that the pain shot arousing heat through his body.

"Then pray. It'd end this."

" _What's… the point?_ " he questioned again. "No one…" he had to pause in order to steel himself, "no one is going to answer my prayers. No one is going to save me." The last sentence was a despondent whisper, and Sam gave in to his fate.

"Oh, Sam, breaking already?" Lucifer said with a pout. "180 years in the Cage and all it takes for you to break is a handjob, and me asking you to pray to God? Wow, if I'd known that I might've done this sooner."

"Just get on with it," Sam muttered.

Then, to his surprise, Lucifer took his hands off him. He even got off his lap.

"No."

"No? What do you mean _no_?"

"I mean, what's the fun in hurting you if you're resigned to it? Seriously, I don't wanna rape someone who's not even going to react."

"Great, that's real classy," Sam told him as he stood and tucked himself back into his pants. His stupid body was still aroused, but Sam did his best to ignore it.

He then tried to look the Devil in the eyes, but the dark angel's ice blue gaze was focused elsewhere, staring down at the bulge in his jeans. Lucifer licked his tongue across his bottom lip, his brows furrowed slightly as if he were pondering something.

"Hm," he said, his tone thoughtful, "maybe you _would_ react."

There was nothing Sam could say to that, and he swallowed back his fear. He was about to brush past Lucifer, but the Devil grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down on the bed, straddling him. Sam let out a yelp, but quickly Satan put a hand over his mouth.

"Sh… Sh, sh, sh…" he cooed in a false attempt to soothe him. "I think there's someone in the motel room next door. Wouldn't want them to hear you. And I _know_ you wouldn't want other people to know you're crazy enough to go to the nuthouse." Sam started to scream, his voice muffled. He was cut off when Lucifer's other hand wrapped tightly around his neck, robbing him of oxygen. "So, since your traitorous body seems to want some attention, here's how this is gonna go. Either you're going to pray to God, and make it as heartfelt as possible, _or_ I'm going to have my way with you." He paused to let those words sink in. "How does that sound?"

He took his hands off of him to let him answer, but Sam had no answer. Either option was terrible.

"Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…"

"Shut up!" Sam shouted at him. "Just let me think."

Satan chuckled. "Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…" And it continued like that for about twenty more seconds before Lucifer told him, "Time's running out, Sammy. Gotta make your choice." Then he proceeded to make clicking noises with his tongue, imitating the sound of a clock.

"No!" he ended up shouting at him. "I won't do anything you say!" As soon as those words left his mouth Sam held his breath, sure he was about to regret them very much.

The Devil smiled at him, stopping his ticking noises. "Oh, Sam, this is going to be so much fun."

And then his hands began to work on taking off his clothes.

"Wait, no, no! I take it back, I take it back!" he shouted as he struggled beneath him.

"Too late, Sammy!"

Before he knew it his shirt was off and Lucifer was running his hands all over his abdomen, and then his chest, paying great attention to his nipples. Sam's body gave in at that, completely against his will, and he arched into his touch, a moan leaving him.

He hated that this happened to him, hated that he became trapped in his own mind, hated that it seemed like he wanted this. His soul was screaming that it didn't, but his body, which was already heating up again, was screaming that it did. A war went on within him as Lucifer finished removing his clothes. It even caused him to shudder at certain points, and the Devil seemed to think it was from desire or pleasure.

Before he could truly process what was happening he was flipped over and made to get on his hands and knees. More tears fell. His body refused to move, either from fear, or from the dreadful arousal, he couldn't tell. And much more quickly than he had expected, Lucifer's hard cock was pressing against him. An ice cold shiver of fear ran up his spine, and Sam bowed his head.

That shiver seemed to bring clarity back to him, control, and just as Lucifer started pushing into him, he twisted his body, and swept out his leg. He had intended to knock Lucifer off the bed, but the dark angel simply grabbed him, anger sparking in his eyes. Sam tried pulling his leg back in a vain attempt to get Lucifer to let go. This couldn't happen to him. Not again! It just couldn't. Despite how hard he fought he eventually had to admit defeat. When he did he lay down on the bed, a frustrated growl leaving him.

But then all it took for his body to give in again was for Lucifer to run a hand up his leg till he was cradling his balls in his hand. Sam leaned his head back, a groan leaving him, unbidden, as pleasure sparked from his touch.

"So you like that?"

"No…" Sam got out, his voice nearly a whisper.

He had expected another taunt, but Lucifer seemed impatient. He rolled Sam back onto his stomach. "On your hands and knees," he ordered. When Sam didn't immediately react he spanked him, and he winced from the burning pain. "Now."

A sob left him once he'd done as he said. There was no way to fight him, and his body didn't want to, so all he could do now was follow orders. It was beyond disgracing.

One second passed. Two.

Sam's heart beat wildly, threatening to break free from his chest.

Terror burst through his veins.

Three.

He could no longer breathe.

His body shook.

And then, without even trying to be gentle, Lucifer grabbed hold of him and pushed in. Sam bit back a scream that sought to rise from his chest. Pain, agonizing pain, flared through him, and it didn't end. It just worsened and worsened, and traveled deeper. Lucifer's grip on him tightened, and then he began to thrust, his movements relentless. He didn't hold back in any way, and he battered against a rather sensitive bundle of nerves inside of Sam. He went as deep as he could, as fast as he could, and as hard as he could. Sam became lost in the agony, lost in the atrocious pleasure that this granted him with. There was nothing else but those dreadful sensations, that abhorrent, cold touch.

He wanted nothing more than for it to end. He couldn't do this anymore. How could he endure something so unspeakable, so evil, so damn wrong that he felt it all the way down into his soul?

Without even realizing it, he began to call out to God, asking him to make it stop. Asking him to help him. Begging, pleading.

Praying.

It did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

In that time, Sam felt so much pain, so much fear, that he thought his heart might give out. When God didn't answer him he began to wish it would.

But it kept beating. He kept living, kept experiencing what was probably the worst thing in existence. It was certainly the worst thing in his existence. Satan was vile, and merciless, and oh god, did Sam feel it. And there was no one who could help him. His torment would be endless.

So once Lucifer had finally finished with him, he lay there, tears slowly making their way down his face. It didn't matter that he had fought, that he'd originally made his own choice to not pray once Lucifer had given him the ultimatum. In the end he'd still given in. He'd still prayed to God. He'd done it with all his heart and soul. And what had made it worse was that there was no answer. And he knew, deep down, that there never would be. Sam had to go through this alone.

Lucifer traced designs on his back, as if they were an actual couple who had just finished having consensual sex. Sam nearly laughed from how very far from the truth that was.

"So you ended up praying to my Dad after all," he mused. "And no answer, huh? That's too bad." His tone said that it really wasn't. Sam knew he'd enjoyed hearing him pray for help. "So I really frighten you that much, Sammy? That's quite a turn on. Man, I might have to take you again!"

"You got what you wanted," Sam told him, his voice quiet. "Just leave me alone."

And with that Lucifer was gone… for now. He'd be back, but there'd be no more praying. Sam had learned that it was useless. He assumed that after that day, he'd never pray again.

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 **A/N: Don't worry. I already know I'm going to Hell.**


End file.
